


The Devil Himself

by Ilickrocks



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Duccio is an idiot, Gen, He's also the fandom's punching bag, LITERALLY, a wild attempt at humor, first work in this fandom, post AC:Brotherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilickrocks/pseuds/Ilickrocks
Summary: Duccio's time in Venice is ruined by outlandish rumors.ORThe one where Duccio finally realizes how stupid he's been.





	The Devil Himself

     “I hear the _Assassino_ is back in town…”

     Duccio could only pause as he raised his _vino_ to his lips and roll his eyes.  Seriously.  He was attempting to enjoy his evening meal and take in the sights of Venezia and now there were two curs at the table behind him whispering rumors about a boogie man.  _The Assassino…_   Duccio scoffed.  He’d heard wild stories and rumors about the man for over 20 years, this man draped in the white robes of a death shroud who could kill his victim in the blink of an eye and disappear just as quickly.  The stories had started not long after Duccio had left Firenze for his apprenticeship, and the tales spread, with new ones springing to life out of Toscana, Forlì, Venezia, and finally, Roma.  There were even rumors that the _Assassino_ had attacked the Pope himself in the middle of high mass…  The tales made the _Assassino_ seem like a one-man army, taking out impossible targets against even more impossible odds and performing astounding feats of physical prowess.  Duccio refused to believe any of it—there was no way one man could perform all those tasks and still be alive.  And all those so called ‘impossible targets’…?  It had to be just the officials trying to save face, refusing to admit they had made mistakes a child could have avoided.

     The pair at the next table continued with their prattling.

     “Who do you think he’s going after?”

     “I don’t know, but I feel sorry for that poor _bastardo_.  Remember one of that last times he was in town…?”

     “Oh!  You mean when he killed the Doge and then stormed the Arsenal…?”

     “Remember when he…?”

     The pair continued swapping stories until Duccio had finally had enough.

     “Enough!” the merchant snapped, slamming his cup to the table.  He spun out of his seat to face the gossips, irritation clearly etched across his face.  “You have ruined my meal!” he cried, flinging his arms up into the air.  “And simply because you two had to gossip like a pair of _vecchie cameriere_ about wild stories of an _assassino_ that can’t possibly be true!”

     Neither man looked overly impressed with Duccio’s outcry.

     “Aw, calm down.  Nothing wrong with trading a few good stories over a warm meal.”

     “Gruesome stories and wildly outlandish!” Duccio sneered.  “Nobles and guards being slaughtered…buildings being destroyed.  How is that possibly good for eating??  Never mind that none of them can possibly be true!”

     “And how do you know?” the other man asked, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “Were you even there?”

     “…Well, no. But-” 

     "Then how do you know that they are lies?”

     “Because-  Because no one man could do all of that!  Its madness to believe that!  And have either one of **you** seen this so called _assassino_??  Can you tell me what he even looked like?”

     The pair shared a look before returning their attention back to the flustered merchant.  “Well, he wears these white robes-”

     “Everyone knows about the robes!”

     “He wasn’t finished, you idiot!  Like he was saying before you interrupted _signore_ , the _assassino_ has white and red robes, along with this hood, so deep all you can barely make out his face.”

     “And the cape!  Don’t forget the cape!”

     “Yes, yes, the cape hanging from his left shoulder, all so he can hide his weapons from the guards.”

     “Not the crossbow, though!”

     “No, and he is deadly with that crossbow.  Although, not as deadly as he is with the blades he has hidden in his bracers—many men have met their end with one of those blades in their throat.  Some say the last thing his targets see is his scarred face smiling at them.”

     Duccio rolled his eyes.  “Oh, please!  How could you possibly know all of that?  Have you met the man himself?”

     “Well, uh, he is standing right behind you…” the man pointed past Duccio’s shoulder.

     Duccio scowled and started to formulate a comeback about them thinking him a fool, but a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

     “Duccio,” a voice he hadn’t heard in years rumbled behind him.  “Fancy meeting you here.”

     The merchant slowly turned, the hand still clasped on his shoulder.  Thick white robes started to fill his vision…a white half cape with scarlet lining (Duccio could barely make out the shapes of a sword and daggers concealed by the cape)…a deep white hood that hid the man’s eyes, but not the familiar scarred mouth that was tugging up in a smirk.  He was wearing the same robes years ago, and that last time had not been pleasant.  (It wasn’t Duccio’s fault that his foe had fought with no honor…and besides, Duccio had been tired!  The trip to Roma had been rather long and he had not slept well the night before!)

     “How are you enjoying Venezia?”  The smirk on Ezio Auditore’s face deepened.

     “You-?!” Duccio squeaked.  (He had something in his throat—men like him did **not** squeak!)  His eyes darted down to the hand still on his shoulder, now turned enough so he could see the inner portion of the ornate bracer.  It almost looked like…like-  “No…”  Duccio went as white as Ezio’s robes.  “No!  Nonono!”  He yanked himself away, tripping over his chair.  “ _Qualcuno mi salvi!!_ ” he screamed as he tore out of the inn and out into the Venetian night, his meal long forgotten.

     “Who was **that**??” one of ‘gossips’ asked.

     Ezio shrugged as he pulled up a chair and joined the two thieves.  “Just an old acquaintance…  Now, Antonio tells me you have news for me…”

**Author's Note:**

> How does Duccio go from being a total braggart to running away in terror? A curb stomping clearly isn't enough. Since Duccio's an idiot, I hit him with a Clue-by-four. (Had a serious idea of where Duccio gets tangled up in Templar affairs and Ezio's forced to save his dumb ass, but I'm better at writing nonsense.)
> 
> Translations, courtesy of Google:  
> Vecchie cameriere - old maids  
> Qualcuno mi salvi - Someone save me


End file.
